


Great Scott!

by pocketmumbles (livelikejack)



Series: Wolf Moon 'verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 04:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1926885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelikejack/pseuds/pocketmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott says, “What do you mean, he’s been de-aged.”</p>
<p>Stiles twists his mouth guiltily. Well, not really guiltily, per se. Scott would put it closer to chagrined. “Well, uh, it’s kind of self-explanatory when you think about it.”</p>
<p>(Set eleven months after the end of Wolf Moon. The fic, not the episode.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Scott!

**Author's Note:**

> WOW I SHOULD PROBABLY POINT OUT THAT THERE IS NO UNDERAGE IN THIS. OKAY.
> 
> This is a tiny continuation of my Wolf Moon fic, and you'll unfortunately have to read that 93k monster to understand what the hell is going on in this 'verse. I wish I could summarize it for you, but I can't. Since canon had fun with de-aged!Derek, I decided to try it out in this 'verse. For the lulz.
> 
> Title is a quote from Back To The Future, and also a tiny throwback to Wolf Moon, and also a casual statement about Scott being great, just in general.
> 
> In which I reveal to you just how well I know Fall Out Boy, Linkin Park, and the Lord of the Rings cast commentary. That shit came out over a decade ago do you feel old because I feel old.
> 
> The line, “What’s the sitch,” is from Kim Possible and I’m going to cry if you’re too young to get that reference. It's not your fault; I'm just weird like that.

Scott says, “What do you mean, he’s been _de-aged_.”

Stiles twists his mouth guiltily. Well, not really _guiltily_ , per se. Scott would put it closer to chagrined. “Well, uh, it’s kind of self-explanatory when you think about it.”

“Unbelievable,” Malia says, crossing her arms. “We leave you alone for _three days_ and you manage to get my cousin de-aged.”

“Hey!” Stiles says, throwing his arms out. Scott automatically grabs the Jeep’s steering wheel before they go careening into a tree. “It’s not just my fault! Allison was here, too, _and_ Derek, you know, until the whole…de-aging.” He puts his hands back on the wheel to speed through a yellow light. “She’s guarding your mom’s house while Boyd’s with Derek. He, uh, doesn’t really trust any of us.”

Scott sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything, does he.”

“Nope,” Stiles says. “He won’t tell us anything, but he looks around high school-aged. I’ve already told his family and older friends to keep away so he doesn’t recognize them.”

“Good,” Scott says. He pats Stiles’ shoulder. “That was a good idea.”

“Wouldn’t have been necessary if you hadn’t gotten him de-aged in the first place,” Malia mutters. Scott elbows her. “What? It’s true. Stiles is your second; he’s supposed to be the one going with you to these stupid werewolf pack conferences, not me. But this kind of stuff is exactly why he’s not ready, yet.” She frowns at Stiles. “You’re lucky Talia’s still in Colorado. She’d chew you out for letting this happen.”

“She wouldn’t,” Scott says.

“Well, _her_ second definitely would.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Stiles snaps. “I don’t know what happened. Lydia didn’t sense anything. We’re still trying to figure out where it came from.” His fingers drum arrhythmically on the steering wheel. “We were kind of hoping to have more answers for you by the time you got back,” he admits.

“It’s okay,” Scott says.

“No, it’s not,” Malia says.

“Well, we’re here now and we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Scott says. “It’s going to be okay.” Malia sighs and leans back in her seat as they approach Scott’s childhood home. Scott turns back to Stiles. “So, what is it that you’re not telling me?”

Stiles blinks. “Why would I be – okay, fine.” He sighs. “He’s, uh, he’s been asking for you.”

Scott’s heart lurches. “Derek?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says. “He doesn’t think he’s been de-aged. He thinks he’s time-traveled into the future.” He turns off the car and turns to look at Scott. “Your future.”

Well. Shit. There are a thousand questions locked tight behind Stiles’ eyes that Scott knows he’ll never ask, for both of their sakes. Scott chews on his lip. “He can’t be younger than fifteen, then,” he says, for research’s sake. They need to know that much, for research’s sake. “Why’d you take him here instead of my house?”

“Well,” Stiles says. “I mean, he lives there. He might recognize something. And this house still has enough of your scent that he was willing to go here. Melissa’s at work right now, but she said he can stay here for as long as we need.”

“Okay.” Scott takes a deep breath and reaches for the door. It flies open under his hand, and Scott finds himself staring straight at a young face that he’d known once, an eternity ago.

“Scott!” Derek yells, wide-eyed with excitement, and tackles him to the ground.

 

“This is so cool,” Derek says, hopping up onto the kitchen counter as comfortably as if it were his own house. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he tackled Scott into Mom’s rosebush. “I’m in the future!” He admires a bag of Popchips next to the sink. “Cool, future chips!”

“Shit.” Scott snatches the bag away and hands him Doritos instead.

Derek glares at him. It’s downright adorable. “I don’t think I’m going to change anything in my future if I eat future chips.” He eyes the bag in Scott’s hand longingly. “Chili lime potato sounds so cool.”

“No future chips,” Scott says firmly. Derek sighs dramatically and opens the Doritos. “Okay,” Scott says, grabbing a handful of chips for himself, “So what’s the last thing you remember?”

Derek licks cheese dust off his fingers before plunging his hand right back into the bag anyway. “Well, I went to the ice rink with Paige and her band friends – oh, Scott, I need to tell you about Paige!”

“In a minute,” Scott says. “What happened after the ice rink?”

Derek shrugs. “Nothing, really. We went for pizza, Paige had to get home before her curfew, and Almir gave me a ride home. Almir’s pretty cool, he says he’s gonna teach me how to play the saxophone ‘cause it’s way cooler than the piano anyway.”

“It is,” Scott says loyally. “And then…?”

“And then I chatted with Paige until her mom kicked her off the computer, and then I went to sleep,” Derek says. “And then when I woke up, your friend Stiles was screaming in my face.”

“That sounds like Stiles,” Scott says with a sigh.

“Why do your friends have weird names like Stiles and Boyd?” Derek asks. “Are they codenames? What’s yours?”

“I don’t have a codename,” Scott says. “I’m just Scott.”

“Oh,” Derek says. He looks disappointed. “That’s cool, too. Like how Jean Grey’s codename is just Jean Grey. Well, except for the Phoenix thing, which was pretty badass except in the movie, which was kind of lame ‘cause, like – well, anyway, I mean, non-codenames are cool.”

“Man, just quit while you’re ahead. My name is boring, it’s okay.”

“Your name could never be boring,” Derek says. He smiles. “Because it’s yours.”

Scott blinks. “That’s,” he says. “That was so sweet. Thank you, Derek.”

“Yeah, I can be pretty smooth when I want to,” Derek says casually, running a hand through his hair. Scott bites back a smile and doesn’t mention the trail of cheese dust that he tracks through it. “Okay, so, what’s the sitch?”

“What?” Scott asks.

“What’s the sitch? You know, the situation?” Derek elaborates. “What’s going on? How come you brought me here?”

“Uh.” Scott swallows heavily around the Doritos. They scrape down his throat. “Well, uh.”

“Because you brought me here, right?” Derek asks slowly. Scott hears his heart rate spike as his breaths get shallower. “You’re the reason I’m whenever this is and not back in 2003, right?”

“Derek,” Scott says carefully.

“Oh, god,” Derek says. He slides off the counter and collapses in a heap on the floor, drawing his knees close to his chest. “Oh, god. The last thing I told Cora was that her face was stupid. That’s going to be the last thing she ever heard from me. Oh, god.”

Scott kneels next to Derek, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t lean into it, either. “Derek, it’s going to be okay.”

“Her face isn’t stupid, I didn’t mean it,” Derek says frantically. “It’s not her fault she got the weird-looking genes, she’s just a kid.”

“Derek, listen to me,” Scott says. “I’m going to get you back home, I promise.”

Derek’s grip on his knees loosen slightly. “You promise?” he asks, staring fearfully into Scott’s eyes.

He nods firmly. “I promise. Even if I have to take you there myself, I will get you home.” He smiles with more confidence than he feels. “I already did the time travel thing once; I can do it again, no big deal.”

“Okay,” Derek says. He smiles weakly. “Okay. I trust you, Scott.”

A lump settles in Scott’s throat. He leans forward and hugs Derek tight. “Thank you, Derek.”

 

Keeping an eye on Derek while the rest of the pack tries to figure out the spell is kind of boring. At least this managed to happen after finals, and at least Brooke’s used to covering for Derek at the library for weird supernatural reasons. But Derek can’t wander around the town, because someone might recognize him (unlikely, considering the fifteen-year age gap), or someone might think he’s an out-of-town Hale and start talking about Talia or Cora in front of him (very likely, considering the fifteen-year age gap), so they’re mostly stuck at Scott’s mom’s house watching old DVDs.

(Stiles had initially panicked and dug up old VHS tapes for Derek, and Derek had rolled his eyes so hard that he’d actually fallen backwards.)

But it’s not that boring, really, because it’s Derek. He’s a little shorter, a lot skinnier, and kind of pretentious, but he’s still him. It’s sort of nice, to get to see him at this age and see how much of him didn’t change. (Scott doesn’t think about how much of him _did_ change, once.) But it’s not nice, not really, not at all, because it’s been three days and Lydia still doesn’t even know why Derek was de-aged in the first place, much less how to change him back.

Scott knows what it’s like to feel out of sync with the rest of the world. He doesn’t want that to happen to Derek.

They end up spending most of the time watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Derek had swooped in and clutched The Return of the King to his chest, swearing up and down that he had taken Paige to see it _just last week_ so it was totally okay to watch it on DVD. He’d recounted the scene with Legolas and the oliphaunt in increasingly vivid detail until Scott had taken pity on him and pulled out Derek’s own Extended Edition box set.

He’d ignored Scott completely for the first day and a half, absorbing every new scene with rapt attention. Now, though, he just keeps playing the cast commentary and laughing at Orlando Bloom. “Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan are so great together,” he says. “Are they still friends, now?”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you ask, Derek,” Scott says with a laugh. “I’m not telling you.” Derek doesn’t huff at him like he always does, though, but instead watches him thoughtfully. “What?”

“You’re so much happier here,” he says. “I mean, last time, you _acted_ happy and nice. But, here, you really are. I’m glad.”

“Well,” Scott says, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Derek’s gazes are still as creepily intense as ever. “A lot changed after I got back. Like, you know.” He gestures at his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s really cool,” Derek enthuses. “I can’t believe you’re a True Alpha!”

“Yeah, me neither,” Scott says. “It was kind of a surprise to me, too.”

“Well, then, I promise I won’t tell you when I get back,” Derek says. “I’ll act all surprised and everything when it happens. It’ll be great.” He tilts his head, and his smile softens. “I’m really glad you’re happy here, though. Really. You deserve it.”

“You don’t know that,” Scott says, aiming for casual and landing closer to awkwardly uncomfortable instead. “I could’ve been lying to you this whole time. I could be a terrible person.”

“Nah,” Derek says, leaning back comfortably on the couch cushions. “You’re a terrible liar, but you’re a good person.” He turns his head to meet his eyes. “I know you, Scott.”

“You don’t even know my last name.”

Derek shrugs. “I don’t need to. I know you.”

Scott stares back at him and tries to remember how to breathe. On the TV, Elrond tells his daughter, _“Nothing is certain.”_

Arwen says, _“Some things are certain.”_

 

Scott carries dinner into the dining room and finds Derek and Stiles in the midst of a stare-off while Boyd ignores them completely. “ _You’re_ Scott’s best friend,” Derek says disbelievingly.

“For the past nineteen years, yeah,” Stiles says.

“He never mentioned you.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Scott deliberately steps between them to lay down the tray of mac ‘n’ cheese, but Derek just leans around him. “Why is your name so weird?”

“Why are your front teeth so big?”

Derek sucks his lip over the afore-mentioned teeth. “They are _not_.”

“Oh, buddy.” Stiles smirks. “Trust me. They’re practically bunny-sized.”

“How pathetic are you that you have to pick on a fifteen-year-old’s _teeth_ ,” Boyd says without looking up from his book.

Derek smiles vindictively. “Yeah, _Stiles_ , you’re so pathetic.”

“Don’t even get me started with you, Derek,” Boyd says.

Derek subsides under Boyd’s stone-faced stare. “You don’t scare me, Boyd,” he says, and he preemptively shoots a glare at Scott when his heart trips over the lie. Scott raises his eyebrows innocently and digs into his macaroni.

“Don’t see why I would,” Boyd says dryly. “I’m just a harmless human.”

Derek fiddles with his food and accidentally bends his fork in half. “Told you we should’ve gotten plastic forks instead,” Stiles mutters to Scott.

Derek stares at Boyd, heart hammering and jaw set. “Why do you smell like pack?”

Scott freezes, and Stiles tries to stammer out fifty ill-conceived excuses all at once. Boyd, meanwhile, stares calmly back at Derek. “Why do _you_ think I smell like pack?” he asks.

Derek’s brows draw down and together. “You’re human,” he says. “So that means you’re close to someone in the pack. _Really_ close, if you’re pack yourself.” He squints. “Did you marry Laura?”

Boyd shrugs. Derek’s eyes snap to the pulse point on his neck, and he frowns when it doesn’t waver. “Does it matter?” Boyd asks.

“It feels like I should trust you,” Derek says, hands curling in frustration. “It feels like you’re family. But I don’t know you at all.”

“Yeah,” Boyd says, nodding. “Time travel is complicated; I don’t recommend it.” He glances at Scott, and his eyebrows twitch closer to his forehead. “Oh,” he says, neutrally as ever. He plucks the fork out of Derek’s grip. “Is that why you’re getting all bent out of shape?”

Stiles groans. “That was terrible, Boyd. Just terrible.”

Boyd tosses the fork absently at Stiles. It hits him right on the nose.

 

Scott turns the dishwasher on and turns to Boyd. “What were you talking about earlier?” he asks him quietly. “With…you know.” He jerks his chin towards the living room, where Derek and Stiles fight over the Blu-ray player. (“What were you expecting, holograms?” “Well, kind of.”)

“He’s not bothered that I smell like pack,” Boyd says. “He’s bothered that _you_ don’t.”

“Oh,” Scott says. He slumps against the counter. “But – I mean. He knows I’m an alpha, now, he wouldn’t expect me to be in Talia’s pack.”

“It’s pretty far in the future, for him,” Boyd says. “I don’t know what you told him before, but I think…” He glances towards the living room and drops his voice even lower. “I think he thought that, since you became an alpha, he would be in yours.”

 

Scott squints at the early sunlight hitting him in the eye. “Derek?” he calls, stretching with a yawn.

He doesn’t answer. Scott climbs off the couch and follows his heartbeat to the backyard. Derek stands in the middle of the lawn, staring at the apple tree while his hands quietly clench and unclench, over and over. Scott walks up to him and carefully places a hand on his shoulder. “Derek?”

“Everything’s so different,” Derek says quietly. “ _You’re_ different. You…I don’t think I…” He shakes his head and turns him with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nothing. What’s for breakfast? Future pancakes?”

 

It turns out that Derek’s age was cut in half by a succubus who, in a fit of boredom, decided to start dabbling in magic to enhance its feeding experience.

It also turns out that the succubus fed on Danny at the ice rink while the rest of them were busy finding out about the magic-dabbling.

“I swear, we left him alone for, like, two minutes,” Kira says as she carries Danny into the house. “Five minutes, tops.”

“’s okay,” Danny slurs out. “I was kinda due for supernatural shenanigans anyway.” He squints blearily at Derek, who watches the spectacle in the living room with a sort of horrified curiosity. “Heyyyyyy, Derek. You look weird.” Then he passes out. Kira squeaks and accidentally drops him.

“Oh, shit, this is bad,” Stiles babbles as Isaac helps Scott move Danny to the couch. “This is so bad. Jackson’s gonna kill us.”

“No, it’s okay, Danny’s not dead yet,” Isaac says, checking Danny’s pulse.

_“Yet?”_ Kira demands.

“So Jackson won’t kill us. Just, like, permanently maim us,” Isaac says with a shrug. “I’m gonna hide in a pile of mountain ash; the rest of you are on your own.”

“Who’s Jackson?” Derek asks.

“Danny’s boyfriend,” Isaac says. “He’s going to beat the shit out of us and them blame himself for not getting back sooner.”

“Oh,” Derek, says, blinking. “That…doesn’t sound fun.”

“It’s gonna be hilarious.”

“Um.” Derek edges closer to Scott. “You’re weird.”

Isaac beams. “Thank you!”

The door slams open. “Okay, good news and bad news,” Lydia says as she and Boyd walk in. “We found-” She stops, glances at Derek, and snaps her fingers.

Derek’s hands fly up to his (adorably sticking-out) ears. “Hey!” he yelps. “What’d you do to my ears? How come I can’t hear anything?”

Lydia ignores him. “We found the succubus,” she continues.

Isaac coughs. “Well, technically, Danny found him.”

“I thought succubi were female,” Scott says, frowning in confusion.

“Human gender is irrelevant to them,” Lydia says dismissively. “This one likes masculine pronouns. Anyway, the curse is tied to the caster, so we can’t break it without him.”

“Cora’s interrogating him,” Boyd says, flipping through Lydia’s Samsung Galaxy Note. “But so far, he isn’t budging.”

“Wait,” Isaac says. “Is it safe for Cora to-” He freezes and glances at Derek.

“Why is he looking at me,” Derek demands.

“He can’t hear anything,” Lydia tells Isaac. “And succubi prey on lust and loneliness, so Cora’s basically immune.”

“Loneliness,” Kira says, snapping her fingers. “Jackson had to stay an extra week at Stanford, so that’s why the succubus targeted Danny. And Derek – uh.” She glances at Scott and snaps her mouth shut.

“It’s my fault,” Scott says quietly. “Because I left.”

“I mean, to be fair,” Stiles says. “Who really gets separation anxiety after just three days?”

_“Why are you all looking at me,”_ Derek yells.

 

The next morning, Danny wakes up as a twelve-year-old. To his credit, he doesn’t freak out at all, but instead seems content to chat with Derek about Linkin Park and Fall Out Boy.

“Jackson is going to kill us,” Stiles says, watching the tweens pass CDs back and forth. “We’re dead. We are officially dead.”

(“No, trust me, From Under The Cork Tree is so good,” Danny says. “‘Sugar We’re Going Down’ changed my life.”

“Okay,” Derek says skeptically as he takes the earbud. “But I don’t see how anything can beat ‘Dead On Arrival.’”)

“It’s okay,” Scott says. “We found the succubus; we know what happened. So now we just need to find a solution.”

Isaac says, “Isn’t twelve a little young to be listening to Linkin Park?”

Scott and Stiles stare at him, nonplussed. “I’m serious!” Isaac says. “They have, like, no happy songs, ever.” He crosses his arms. “I’m learning new things about Danny’s psyche, and I am frankly disturbed.”

 

Derek and Danny spend the rest of the day singing “A Little Less Sixteen Candles” and “Dance, Dance” at the top of their lungs.

Scott has to admit, it’s an improvement from when they sang “Numb” and “In The End” at the top of their lungs. Derek’s kind of awful at rapping. (Conversely, Danny’s Chester Bennington impression is kind of scarily spot-on. Isaac might have had a point about Linkin Park.)

“I haven’t heard these songs in years,” Mom says, hiding out in the kitchen with Scott and a tub of rocky road ice cream. “How’s the curse coming along?”

“Well, Stiles thinks we should just kill the succubus,” Scott says. Mom snorts. “Lydia’s looking for a way to take away his power, instead. But his magic is tied to his succubus nature, so it’s complicated.” He looks down. “I just – I can’t shake this feeling, like we’re running out of time.”

“Well, you always find a way,” Mom says. “And you always get there in time.”

He hadn’t, once, and even though it didn’t happen here, he can never forget it. “Thanks, Mom,” he says, tipping his head onto her shoulder and letting her wrap him in a hug.

She kisses the top of his head. “Anytime, sweetheart,” she says. “If you could get the boys to be a little quieter, though, that’d be great. Derek’s not very good at that screamy stuff.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

 

Scott falls asleep during The Battle of Pelennor Fields and wakes up in Mount Doom. Danny shifts in his sleep on the floor, muttering about slithering puffs, but Derek stares blankly at the TV. Mom’s watch is clutched between his hands. “I found it on your desk,” he says quietly. “You were wearing it when we met, but – it didn’t work, then. It was always frozen at five seconds to 4:20, I remember. I thought it was kinda funny, ‘cause, y’know, 4:20.” He huffs a laugh and looks at the watch, eyes slowly following the second hand around the face. “But it works, here.”

It had stopped working, before, because it had gotten irreparably waterlogged when Scott plunged it into an ice bath. He’d worn it, before, as a reminder. All sacrifices come at a cost. Some break. Some never work again. Some never come back at all.

But here, Mom had given it to him after he’d changed his name, as a last remnant of the man that he shared some genes with. Here, he’d dropped it into a drawer in his desk and never given it a second thought.

On the TV, Gandalf crowns Aragorn as King of Gondor. _“I think all these supposed endings are already valid,”_ Dominic Monaghan says.

Derek says, “This isn’t the timeline that you came from, is it.”

He doesn’t phrase it as a question, so Scott doesn’t answer. “It’s late,” he says instead, picking Danny up (he leans easily into his chest and mumbles something about pseudoscience. Scott didn’t even know what pseudoscience was when he was twelve). “C’mon, time to sleep.”

“Where am I going to be when I wake up?”

Scott meets Derek’s eyes, open and unguarded and – unbelievably, in spite of everything – completely trusting. “I don’t know,” he says honestly.

 

“So what this should do,” Johanna says, holding up the charm, “Is use the succubus’ powers against him and-”

Scott’s Samsung Galaxy S9 spits out Lorde. “Sorry,” he says, turning away and answering the call. “Kira?”

_“Uh,”_ Kira says. _“We might have kind of lost Derek.”_

Scott closes his eyes briefly. “What happened?”

_“I’m really sorry!”_ Kira says. _“I don’t know how it happened; we were watching Back To The Future and then Danny dropped the popcorn bowl and cut himself on one of the shards and started crying, and when we finished patching him up Derek was gone!”_

“Okay.” Scott takes a deep breath. “Stay with Danny. I’ll find Derek.”

_“I’m really sorry, Scott. I-”_

“It’s not your fault,” he says. “If Derek wanted to run, he would’ve managed it one way or another.” He probably got Danny in on it, too. Danny never cries. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll find him.”

Lydia looks up when he ends the call. “Derek gave them the slip?”

“It was only a matter of time,” Scott says. He’s known this was going to happen, ever since he found Derek frustrated and lost in the middle of his backyard that morning.

“Need help tracking him?” Johanna asks. “We’re almost done here, Stiles can-”

Scott shakes his head. “I know where he is. You guys keep going with the succubus. I’ll find Derek.”

 

The Hale house is empty, since Cora got her own place last year and Talia’s still in Colorado. Scott follows Derek’s smaller footprints through the damp ground, the deeper indent where he dug his toes in before leaping onto the roof, and the bathroom window that he didn’t bother to close behind him on his way inside. He can hear Derek’s heart pounding on the other side of the front door, but it’s not because of Scott. No, he’s frantic, desperate, scuffling on the wooden staircase. _“Where is it,”_ he mutters. _“It’s not here, it’s-”_

Scott unlocks the door. Derek doesn’t turn around from his crouch in the middle of the stairs, just stares down at a hollow compartment under one of the steps. “It’s not here,” he says brokenly. “This isn’t – it’s not here.”

Scott carefully sits on the step below Derek. Derek slides down to sit next to him, hot tears streaming down his face. “I wanted to – I had a feeling,” he says. He shakes his head and wipes his face furiously on his sleeve. “I had to know. And now I do.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at Scott. “This is your future, but it isn’t mine.”

Scott shakes his head. “No, you’ve got it all wrong. You-”

“I’m glad you’re happy,” Derek interrupts, looking away and swallowing down his own pain. It never looked right on him when he was twenty-three or twenty-nine, and it breaks Scott’s heart to see him like this when he’s only fifteen. “Even if – even if I wasn’t part of it. You’re happy, and that’s what matters.”

“Derek,” Scott says, but Derek curls tighter around himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For whatever I did to you, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything to me,” Scott says. “Derek – you haven’t even done anything at all.”

“But I will!” he says, tear-streaked face shooting up to look at him. “I will, and that’s why things were so bad for you when you met me, because you knew me, and I’m sorry, Scott, I’m so sorry.”

“Derek,” Scott says. Derek flinches when he wraps his arms around him, but he holds him close anyway. “Derek, what happened wasn’t your fault.”

Derek shakes his head against Scott’s shoulder. “You’re so much happier here,” he says. “And it’s because I’m not a part of it.”

Scott looks down at the staircase. “What were you looking for, here?” he asks. He’d always wondered where Derek had kept it, before the loft. He’s still not really sure how Derek found the loft in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek says. “It’s not here. You wouldn’t know it. Only-” He sighs. “I’m the only one who would’ve known about it.”

“I’m not sure if that’s true,” Scott says. He stands and holds out his hand. “C’mon.” Derek hesitates. “Do you still trust me?”

“I’ll always trust you,” Derek says. He takes Scott’s hand and follows him into the Camaro. He’s silent during the drive, elbows tucked tight against his sides, but uncurls a little when Scott parks in the driveway. “Where are we?”

Scott opens the door. “You tell me.”

Derek steps inside, and his nostrils flare. “I live here,” he says, eyes wide. He follows Scott into the bedroom, neck craning around to look at the pictures on the wall. “This is my house.”

Scott emerges from the walk-in closet to see Derek staring at a photograph of the two of them on the nightstand. Scott’s sprawled in a heap on the ice, and Derek’s caught mid-laugh as he falls over trying to help him up. “Isaac took that last week,” Scott says. “Gave copies to everyone.”

Derek laughs. “I mean, you do look pretty-” He looks up, and zeroes in immediately on the small metal safe in Scott’s hands.

Scott lays it on the bed. “Go ahead.”

He looks at Scott, heart pounding, and reaches for the combination lock with shaking fingers. 7. 2. 6. 8. He holds his breath as he slides the last number to 8. The safe clicks open. Derek flings the lid open eagerly, then frowns down at what he sees inside.

“We took some extra precautions,” Scott says, dragging a claw over the tip of his finger and squeezing a drop of blood onto the wooden box. “It needs one from you, too.”

Derek blinks, but pricks his own finger and smears it next to Scott’s. He lifts the lid, eyebrows shooting up at the small pile of notebooks inside. “What are these?” he asks.

“Memories,” Scott says with a shrug. He picks up the ones on top, leaving the last at the bottom. “That’s the one you were looking for, right?”

Derek picks it up and flips it open. “I wrote this,” he says, eyes flying across the pages. “I remember writing it. I was watching Back To The Future with Cora, and…” He shuts it and beams up at him. “Great Scott.”

Scott feels the corner of his mouth quirk. “Is that why you always smiled when you heard that line?” he asks. “You always said it was an inside joke, but everyone I asked had no idea.”

“Well, I dunno,” Derek says. He drops the notebook back into the box with a smirk. “Do I know any other time-traveling teenage werewolves named Scott?”

Scott smirks back. “I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“No,” Derek agrees, closing the distance between them. His eyes scan Scott’s face with an intensity that makes him want to squirm. “You’re so much better.”

“Derek-” Derek leans in and kisses him. It’s chaste, barely more than a light pressing of lips, but his eyes flutter shut all the same. He swallows when Derek pulls away. “Uh, Derek-”

“Yes, Scott?” Derek asks, sounding amused and much more familiar.

Scott’s eyes fly open. He stares straight ahead into Derek’s bearded smirk, then tilts his head up to meet his eyes, crinkling at the corners with well-established laughter lines. “What – how-”

Blink-182 blasts from his Samsung Galaxy S9. “You should probably get that,” Derek says, still amused. “I’m going to go change into some clothes that fit.”

_“Did it work?”_ Stiles yells as soon as Scott answers the call. _“Scott, is Derek back to normal?”_

“Yeah,” Scott says, watching Derek struggle out of his now-tight shirt. “Yeah. How did you break the spell?”

_“Oh, well,”_ Stiles says awkwardly. _“Um. Isaac kind of had sex with the succubus?”_

What. “What?”

Derek whirls around. “What?” He flings the new shirt aside and snatches the phone out of Scott’s hand. “You let Isaac have sex with a _succubus?_ ”

_“Oh, shit,”_ Scott hears Stiles mutter. _“It’s okay, he’s fine, we made him a charm to drain the succubus’ power and keep him safe and did I mention he’s totally fine? Isaac, tell your brother you’re totally fine.”_

There’s a brief scuffling, and then Isaac’s voice floats onto the phone. _“Yeah, Derek, I’m pretty sure I’m dying,”_ he says dryly. Stiles shrieks in the background. _“You’re welcome, by the way.”_

“Thank you, Isaac,” Scott says sincerely. He elbows Derek, who mutters his own thanks into the phone.

_“Well, I guess, actually, you could thank my dick. He’s the real hero of this story.”_

Derek slowly closes his eyes. “I’m, uh. I’m not going to thank your dick, Isaac,” Scott says.

_“Whoa, calm down, Scott, I didn’t mean like that. I mean, you’re pretty hot, but-”_

“Goodbye, Isaac,” Derek yells, ending the call. He tosses the phone onto the bed and glares at Scott. “I blame you for making him weird.”

“Hey, he’s your brother,” Scott says. He starts packing up the notebooks. “So how much do you remember?”

“Not much,” Derek says with a shrug. “Another one of those ones where you wake up and it all fades away before you even open your eyes.” He raises an eyebrow. “I _do_ , however, remember you kissing a fifteen-year-old.”

Scott’s mouth drops open. “I – you – _you_ kissed _me!_ ” he sputters. “I was about to tell you to stop.” Derek’s mouth twitches, and then he snorts, and then he gives up and collapses over the bed in laughter. “You’re terrible,” Scott huffs, trying to tug the last notebook away from underneath him.

Instead of being helpful and moving, Derek flops onto his back and tugs Scott down next to him. “I’m sorry,” he says contritely, but his smile doesn’t falter at all.

“No, you’re not,” Scott says with a sigh. He reaches up to cup Derek’s face with one hand, running his thumb over the creases in the corners of his eyes. “I missed you.”

“I missed me, too,” Derek says. Scott drops back onto the mattress with a snort. “Next time, uh.” He coughs. Scott tilts his head to see Derek staring determinedly at the ceiling. “I should go to the conference with you. So, y’know, I don’t end up turning into a mongoose or whatever when Stiles messes up again.”

“You know it wasn’t Stiles’ fault,” Scott says. Derek still won’t look away from the ceiling. “It was the succubus’ fault. And maybe next year he’ll be good enough to come with me instead of Malia.”

“Yeah, but, uh.” Derek’s heart pounds. “I mean, it’s. Mom used to take Dad with her, because.” He clears his throat. “It’s a good way to see if they can really handle being an alpha’s partner, you know, it’s just…” He trails off and darts a quick glance at Scott, the tips of his ears pink.

“Oh,” Scott says. “I’d thought – since you’re – I thought it’d be a conflict of interest, since…” He ducks his head. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you.”

“It’s – we’re still new, it’s,” Derek says. “It’s not a big deal.”

His heart trips over his words. He’s never been very good at asking for things for himself. Scott leans up to look him in the eye. “Derek,” he says seriously. “Would it be okay if you came with me next time? For me?”

Derek exhales slowly. “Yeah,” he says, a tiny smile forming on his face. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Scott smiles and kisses him. “I love you,” he says, because it’ll always be important for him to say, and it’ll always be even more important for Derek to hear.

Derek beams back and pulls him closer. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, this is officially a series now. An ongoing series. Yeah. Probably going to do some character pieces next, and there are some explorations of Scott and Derek that I'd like to try, but those are still in early idea mode so who knows if they'll actually happen.
> 
> Feel free to bother me on [Tumblr](http://www.pocketlass.tumblr.com), if you'd like.


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